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added ain't appeared asked beside better Bill boys cabin called camp child closed Colonel Culpepper Dick don't door evidently excitement expression eyes face fact feet figure fire Five Forks followed Fool gathered give grave hair half hand Hawkins head hill holding Jack Judge knew known lady laugh less light live looked Luck master ment Miggles mind Miss Mary Mliss moment morning Mother mountain natural never night Oakhurst offered once opened party passed pause perhaps person pines Pocket present Princess reached rest returned road Roaring Camp rose round Sandy seemed side silence slowly Smith's stepped stood stopped story suddenly tell Tennessee's thing thought tion took tree turned usual voice waited walked woman young
Stran 96 - Luck," continued the gambler reflectively, "is a mighty queer thing. All you know about it for certain is that it's bound to change.
Stran 90 - Is this yer ad — d picnic?" said Uncle Billy, with inward scorn, as he surveyed the sylvan group, the glancing firelight, and the tethered animals in the foreground. Suddenly an idea mingled with the alcoholic fumes that disturbed his brain. It was apparently of a jocular nature, for he felt impelled to slap his leg again and cram his fist into his mouth. As the shadows crept slowly up the mountain, a slight breeze rocked the tops of the pine-trees and moaned through their long and gloomy aisles.
Stran 23 - But," said Stumpy, quickly following up his advantage, "we're here for a christening, and we'll have it. I proclaim you Thomas Luck, according to the laws of the United States and the State of California, so help me God.
Stran 142 - There, now, steady, Jinny, steady, old girl. How dark it is! Look out for the ruts, and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keep on straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told you so! — thar he is — coming this way, too — all by himself, sober, and his face a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!
Stran 93 - They'll find out the truth about us all when they find out anything," he added significantly, " and there's no good frightening them now." Tom Simson not only put all his worldly store at the disposal of Mr. Oakhurst, but seemed to enjoy the prospect of their enforced seclusion. "We'll have a good camp for a week, and then the snow'll melt, and we'll all go back together.
Stran 132 - Short and stout, with a square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, clad in a loose duck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with red soil, his aspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and was now even ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy carpetbag he was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed legends and inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had been patched had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering....
Stran 102 - And pulseless and cold, with a Derringer by his side and a bullet in his heart, though still calm as in life, beneath the snow lay he who was at once the strongest and yet the weakest of the outcasts of Poker Flat.
Stran 24 - ... called — first showed signs of improvement. It was kept scrupulously clean and whitewashed. Then it was boarded, clothed, and papered. The rosewood cradle, packed eighty miles by mule, had, in Stumpy's way of putting it, " sorter killed the rest of the furniture.
Stran 27 - ... would bring him a cluster of wild honeysuckles, azaleas, or the painted blossoms of Las Mariposas: The men had suddenly awakened to the fact that there were beauty and significance in these trifles, which they had so long trodden carelessly beneath their feet. A flake of glittering mica, a fragment of variegated quartz, a bright pebble from the bed of the creek, became beautiful to eyes thus cleared and strengthened, and were invariably put aside for "The Luck." It was wonderful how many treasures...
Stran 125 - Pirate," a mild, inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunate mispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites." Perhaps this may have been the beginning of a rude heraldry ; but I am constrained to think that it was because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his own unsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston, addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of such Cliffords !" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name...